Viking King (The MacLomain Series: Viking Ancestors, Book 1)
Read Viking King (The MacLomain Series: Viking Ancestors, Book 1) Online
Authors: Sky Purington
Determined to take a break from her past, Megan cozies down in her million dollar Winter Harbor Maine home and focuses less on money and more on dreams. Building boats was a childhood desire she’s determined to pursue. With a love for Viking shipwright skills, she constructs a small scale longship. What she doesn’t anticipate is an unexpected call from the past.
Of dragon blood, Viking King, Naðr Véurr Sigdir ‘the bold’ knew that the bargain he struck with the seers would likely lead to an unpredictable outcome. What he didn’t foresee is a beautiful, headstrong woman from the future washing up on his shores.
Caught between twenty-first century America and ninth century Scandinavia, two souls connect. Both determined and willful, their battle soon becomes not one made of the eras separating them but all the unexpected moments that drive them closer together.
Anger. Need. Distrust. Hope. Never-ending desire. All merge, warring and passionate, when a modern day woman and a Viking king surge forward together to conquer not only their enemies but what lies within their hearts.
Viking King
The MacLomain Series-Viking Ancestors
Book One
By
Sky Purington
Dedication
For my fan turned dear friend, Jamie Ness Rodrigues. I might come from a Navy family and you were career Army, but wow did we hit it off. This one’s for you because I believe in strong women who face all that life throws at them and still supersede. You are amazing. Thank you for your endless support, your service to our country and for your dedication to the Wounded Warrior Project.
Acknowledgments
Many thanks to Phoenix D. for always being available to give pointers on Norse Mythology and Viking history. Not only did you educate but inspire me.
COPYRIGHT © 2014
Viking King
Sky Purington
This is a work of fiction. Names, characters, places, and incidents are either the product of the author's imagination or are used fictitiously, and any resemblance to actual persons living or dead, business establishments, events, or locales, is entirely coincidental.
All rights reserved. No part of these books may be used or reproduced in any manner whatsoever without written permission of the author except in the case of brief quotations embodied in critical articles or reviews.
Edited by
Cathy McElhaney
Cover Art by
Tamra Westberry
Published in the United States of America
Contents
Winter Harbor, Maine
2014
Mid-October never held so much appeal. Some might say it was the picturesque sunset splashing over Frenchman Bay at high tide. Others might say it was the riotous autumn colors surrounding her house. Or, those who knew her best might guess it was the nearly finished boat in her garage.
They would all be wrong.
Megan sat down at her sturdy oak desk. She didn’t bother with the view of the rocky, windswept shoreline beyond multiple floor-to-ceiling windows. Instead, she plunked her feet on the desk, took a sip of icy cold locally brewed beer and eyed something she hoped would shed light on a mystery.
“Is that what I think it is?”
So Veronica made it after all. She hadn’t heard the front door open. Megan looked at the clock. Five forty-five. “I gave up on you hours ago.”
“You give up on everyone who’s a few minutes late,” her sister pointed out as she strolled over, heels clicking on the hardwood floor.
“Hours late,” Megan muttered.
“Hug hello then?” Veronica prompted.
Megan hugged her sister. “Good to see you. Wine’s in the fridge.” Then she looked down and frowned. “You’re not in New York anymore. Lose the stilettos.”
Veronica blew her salon-perfect bangs out of her eyes. “That’ll be the day.”
Never had three women been more different than her and her sisters. Not to say she didn’t love them. She did. With all her heart. But right now she was regretting having them up for the week. A
whole
week. What was she thinking? Yet when she’d made these plans she didn’t know she’d be getting ahold of this manuscript. Or most of it. For some reason, parts were missing.
“You never answered my question.” Veronica headed for the kitchen. “Is that stack of papers what I think it is?”
Megan quickly pocketed the item her sister clearly had not seen. “Sure is.”
Veronica arched a delicately plucked eyebrow as she poured a glass of Sauvignon Blanc. “I’m always amazed at how many connections you have. Not easy getting manuscripts like that pre-publication.”
Before semi-retiring, Megan had a knack at investing in real estate and currently owned various properties and businesses all the way from Manhattan to upstate Maine. Now thirty, she was an exceptionally wealthy woman. Which, thankfully, allowed her considerable time to do what she loved best…boat building.
Realizing it was unlikely she’d get more details about the origins of the manuscript, Veronica continued. “Have you heard from Cadence?”
“No.” Megan frowned and took another sip. Cadence was a close friend who had vanished a few months ago. All she left behind were legal papers granting the ownership of her bookstore to Megan. That was the sole reason she was determined to get her hands on this manuscript. The agent behind its publisher was none other than Cadence’s sister, Leslie. Not only that, but Cadence had been a ghost-writer for this book after her cousin, McKayla, its author,
also
disappeared.
“How did it go when you went to see Leslie?” Veronica asked, thumbing through the manuscript.
“Dead end.” Megan put a hand on the papers and shook her head. “Leslie knew nothing. In fact, she’s living in the old New Hampshire colonial alone now. Or should I say family free.”
Veronica cocked her head in question.
Megan shoved her hands in the pockets of her hoodie and clucked her tongue. “She’s got a Scotsman living with her.”
“Scotsman?” Veronica mouthed.
“Mm hmm. Tall, really good-looking. Brogue so thick I barely understood a word he said.” She curled up the corner of her lips. “But I didn’t miss the looks he and Leslie exchanged when I was drilling her about Cadence.”
“What kind of looks?”
“Like they knew a whole lot more than what they were saying.”
“Ah.” Veronica eyed the manuscript. “And naturally she doesn’t know you have this.”
“Nope.”
“Again, how
do
you have it?”
“Like you said, I have connections.”
“Have you read much of it yet?”
Megan pulled her hair out of its ponytail to rewrap it. “Bits and pieces.”
Extremely interesting bits and pieces.
Bone-chilling in fact.
“Allow me.” Veronica took the hair tie, shook her head and pulled back the thick, unruly curls. “I know I’ve said it before but women would pay thousands for your hair.”
Megan grumbled under her breath and started flipping through the papers. Her hair was a curse. Golden with wisps of white blond, it had a mind of its own. All it needed to spread its frazzled wings was a humid day. “The gods
only know why I was given this mess when I’ve a love for the sea.”
“Right, your Norse gods.” Veronica chuckled. “I’ll bet they’ve already labeled you a Valkyrie. All crazy warrior woman with the wild hair.”
Megan sighed. Her sister tried but she’d never gotten the hang of Norse mythology. “The Valkyrie chose who would and wouldn’t live after battle. Those who were lucky enough to go on to Valhalla. Not so much warriors themselves.”
“Either way.” Veronica tied up her hair with one fluid motion. “There. Gorgeous as always.”
“Says the part-time model.” But Megan grinned. She wasn’t the jealous type. Her looks got her by when she needed them to.
“And this coming from our infamous tigress,” Veronica admonished.
“Ugh. Going to grab some candles. There’s a storm brewing.”
Megan shook her head and went upstairs. Her sisters had taken to calling her tigress years ago for two reasons. The first, her cut-throat, my-way-or-the-highway attitude in business. The second, her almost unnatural eye color. Most men had trouble holding her gaze. Like her locks, they were golden. In truth, they were pale chestnut mixed with even lighter tones. Some called them wild, untamed eyes.
No matter, nowadays she wasn’t overly worried about holding any man’s gaze, nor did she particularly care what they thought of her. Married once. Divorced. Done. She dated on occasion but was by no means looking for Mr. Forever. That boat had sailed.
“Oh, you got the manuscript!”
By the time Megan made it back downstairs, her sister Amber was already leafing through it.
“Hey, sis.” Megan spaced out candles on the wide mantle.
Amber instantly wrapped her up in a heartfelt hug, words warm. “Good to see you. Sorry I’m so late.”
Veronica was already on the massive suede couch, legs curled under her and wine glass in hand. “It wouldn’t be you otherwise, sweetie.”
“You should talk.” Megan lit the candles.
Amber’s multi-layered chocolate brown eyes flashed at Megan. “Traffic.”
“Sure.” Megan shrugged. “Just glad you both got here before the bad weather.”
Veronica pointed one long fingernail at the window. “Doesn’t look it.”
“Trust me. It’s coming.”
“If Megan says it is then it is.” Amber headed for the kitchen. “She’s never been wrong.”
Megan grabbed her beer, the manuscript and sat on the opposite facing couch. After a quick sip, she set aside her drink and started thumbing through the pages. The truth was she’d already looked through it once. While she found it interesting that Cadence and Leslie’s names were used in the book, it didn’t explain in the least her disappearance. Maybe the missing pieces did.
“I couldn’t help but notice there are several Scottish heroes in that,” Veronica mentioned. “Interesting considering Leslie now has a Scotsman living with her.”
Amber spoke from the kitchen island dividing the open-concept living area. “Does she really? That aside, was she able to shed further light on Cadence’s disappearance?”
“Negative.” Megan kept leafing through. “The whole thing’s fishy.”
“Well, if Leslie isn’t concerned then you shouldn’t be either.” Wine in hand, Amber sat next to Megan. “So what’s this book about anyways?”
“Time travel. Fantasy. Modern day women traveling back to medieval Scotland.”
“Not really your cup of tea, eh?”
“Actually, some of it is,” Veronica said softly.
Megan met her eyes. “You were busy while I was upstairs.”
“Enough to figure out there was a Viking in there.”
“Ohhh.” Amber grinned, eyes twinkling and dark brown hair glistening beneath the recessed lighting. “Pray tell?”
Where Veronica was the willowy one with perfect lines, Amber was the one that dripped sensuality. Slender but curvier than her sisters, Amber attracted all men, young and old. And she adored every last one of them. Where Veronica made an enviable living magazine modeling, Amber was the struggling artist with an unequivocal talent at painting and playing numerous instruments.
Amber tapped Megan on the shoulder. “Still waiting.”
Right. Vikings.
While she might have an unmatched admiration for Norse shipwright skills, it was purely in a non-fictional sense. A Viking in a manuscript held no interest for her.
Not really.
“The Viking’s just a character in a nonsensical book,” Megan answered. “And we never actually meet him. He’s just a picture in a tapestry and then a voice in one of the heroine’s head.”
“Well, well,” Veronica said. “Sounds like you’ve had time to really look through this.”
No. Not until she realized there was a Norseman in it. Then she’d just skimmed looking for him.
Naðr Véurr.
She’d never heard of such a name so looked it up…nearly a year ago.
“Serpent protector,” Veronica murmured.
When Megan’s brows shot up, Veronica held up her cell phone. “Googled it.”
“Serpent protector?” Amber grinned. “Now that
does
sound fantastical.”
“And he’s a king.” Veronica’s lips hovered over the edge of her glass as she eyed Megan. “He definitely sounds like your kind of guy.”
“Very funny,” she said dryly and continued looking through the book. Her sister, of course, was referring to the type of man Megan typically attracted…or at least had before she tucked herself away in Winter Harbor. “They were just the sort who ran in my circles. Now it’s all about fishermen.”
“Quite the leap.” Veronica shook her head. “From power hungry men to—”
“Decent hardworking men who wouldn’t rip your throat out to get ahead,” Megan interrupted.
“Or heart out,” Amber murmured. “How is Nathan?”
“I’d imagine he’s sitting in his high-rise office looking down on the rest of us little people.”
“I read he’s buying up a lot of marinas between Massachusetts and here.” Veronica’s deep green eyes watched Megan closely. Some might think her stunning features meant a dull mind, but few were as brilliant as her statuesque sister.
“So it seems,” Megan said.
Her ex-husband was ridiculously successful, his handsome face splashed in the newspaper far too often. She’d always had a certain type and he fit the bill. Tall, chiseled, driven and in-control. But those were back in the days when she’d preferred Dom Perignon and black-tie affairs to a cold beer and good, down-to-earth company at the local bar.
Back when getting ahead was more important than pursuing her dreams.
“Well I think a fictional Viking king sounds much better than that jackass any day of the week,” Amber announced.
Megan raised her beer. “Heck yeah.”
Yet Veronica wasn’t quite ready to join the party train. “I also read that Nathan bought a monster of a house across the bay in Bar Harbor.”
Megan buried a growl in a swig.
“Not surprising,” Amber said. “We all know he’s not good at rejection. Still.” She frowned at Megan. “I can’t say I like this move considering it’s been three years since you left him. What gives?”
“He’s just reminding her that he’s still around.” Veronica narrowed her eyes. “But be careful nonetheless, honey. No offense because you married him, but there’s always been a little something off about that one.”
That
was an understatement.
Nathan was nothing less than a hedonistic, borderline sadistic bastard. Though he’d never hit her, there was a darkness in him that simmered just beneath the surface. Add in the whole total lack of fidelity thing and she’d be fine with never crossing paths with him again. So it was best not to waste time thinking about him when there were better things to contemplate.
Out of instinct, she clasped the stone in her pocket and wondered at the symbols carved into either side of its flat surface. On one side, a Spirit Ship
.
A Norse symbol often referred to as the Ship of the Slain. It represented the journey to the afterlife. The picture itself very much resembled a Viking longship. On the other side, a Vegvisir. A Viking rune stave, it was a magical device used to aid in sea navigation.
“Alrighty, why don’t we lose the negative talk and focus on food.” Amber’s full lips quirked when she looked at Megan. “Our local hottie still deliver lobster to your front door?”